Dance My Painting, I'll Paint Your Dancing
by Hiron Otsuki
Summary: She avoided all of the other tenants of Guardian House, but when the only other person on her floor decided to take that as a personal offense, things between the two of them heated up before she could snap her fingers and say, 'Tango for Two.'
1. The Party

This is a slash romance fic, don't like, don't read. Gwen and Reshan belong to me, anyone that you recognize, (ie: Toni, Eric, Caity, the 'weird appalachian dude' Hosea and the 'moving gargoyle' Greystone) all belong to Mercedes Lackey.

Have a nice night.

* * *

Gwen sighed as she punched in the code at the front door of Guardian House. It had been one year and three months since she'd moved here, and she'd only gotten one job so far, and that one had ended two months ago. 

Another failed audition, and the money she'd saved wouldn't last much longer. Her 'job' as a night waitress at the strip club, The Dive was fine, but she didn't know how much longer she could stand it; the eyes, leering at her mostly exposed body in those horrible six-inch stilettos and that short, gaudy skirt that half-showed the thong she was forced to wear. The shirt covered her a little bit, but not much, and her boss insisted that she walk so that her breasts bounced, and the men constantly ran their hands down her exposed skin. It was awful and she _hated_ it.

Barbara, one of the other 'waitresses,' had told her about the regulars; those who came to watch the dancers and those who came for dancers _and_ waitresses, so she managed to act a little less slutty around the pervs. It still annoyed the hell out of her, though. And she had gotten rejected as a dancer for West Side Story yet again. She had gotten to callbacks as usual, but they said she didn't have enough emotion. Dancing was her _passion_! How could she not have enough emotion in her dancing?

She slumped up the stairs to her fifth-story corner apartment, avoiding the elevator altogether; a sign outside the door had mentioned that it was broken. Obviously Jose hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet.Her little apartment might not have been the best one in the building, or even on the floor, but she could afford it, she liked it, and she had no need for the second bedroom in 5-A anyway. The only problem was that gargoyle outside her window that seemed to vanish from time to time, though so far she'd managed to chalk it up to stress and not enough sleep. Nine times was a mite much, though.

She pulled a piece of paper off the door and let herself in before banging on the wall she shared with her next door neighbor to let Reshan know that she needed to lower the music that always seemed to be blaring from apartment 5-C.

Currently, they were the only two tenants of the floor; Thom had moved out a few weeks ago and Toni was still trying to find a new occupant.

Funny how the House seemed to be full of artists; not just the painter types, but musicians, illustrators, writers, all sorts of people, all artistic or talented in some way. And they all seemed to be. . . well, pure, or as pure as artists could get. None were the debauched type, and none did drugs that weren't purely medicinal, excluding cigarettes and wine. And even those weren't used much. As nice as the people seemed to be, she didn't really associate with any of them, blithely assuming that they were quiet, like her, and wouldn't want to talk much. They never seemed to when she met them in the elevator (when it was working, that was) except for Reshan.

Dropping her duffel bag on the worn kitchen table, she started sorting through the mail she had picked up before coming up.

Junk; junk; letter from Bryce; junk; junk; junk; bill; junk; bill; end. The notice from the door announced a basement party; the other tenants held them every so often, about once a month or so. She ignored it, as usual, and was heading for the T.V. when someone knocked on the door.

"Come on in," she called. "Door's unlocked."

There was no need to worry about a criminal or something like that; you could only get in by punching in one of the ten-digit codes at the door on the outside of the building, and only the tenants knew it. For some reason, none of the tenants had a record of bad behavior or crime that she knew of; Toni was good at screening out the bad ones somehow, so logically, her visitor could only be a nice, safe tenant.

The door swung open, and there stood Reshan, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

_Or maybe not a safe tenant, _Gwen thought with a mental groan

"Did you get the notice?" Reshan asked Gwen accusingly. "It wasn't on your door, so you must have it."

"Ye-es," she drew the word out.

"Are you coming?"

She sighed. "Do I ever come?"

"Why _don't_ you come?" Reshan inquired. "We're all nice people, we don't bite."

"Why do you _want_ me to come?" Gwen countered, hoping that opposition would make the redhead go away.

"Because we don't know you. You're the only tenant here who never shows. Everyone else has come at least once. C'mon. You'll like it; we don't drink much, if at all, and everybody always brings something. That weird mountain guy makes really good homemade… whatever-they-ares…"

"I can't cook," she replied bluntly.

"So go buy something," was the bright reply. "Please come. We all want to meet you, and just _know_ you want to meet us."

Gwen sighed again. "If I say yes, will you leave me alone?" She just needed some time to think. Maybe she could say she was sick or something.

Reshan grinned again. "'Kay. Try to bring two bottles of…. Retsina. Just two, though. They'll go a long way."

"Okay…."

"The basement at eight. Casual dress, and be ready to chat."

Gwen nodded, and Reshan practically flew out the door.

When the door closed, she groaned and dropped down into a chair, laying her head on her arms. What had she gotten herself into?

_Damn!_

She just remembered. This was her one night off!

§

Four hours later, a very nervous Gwen stood fidgeting in the elevator, a bottle of Retsina in each hand, and dressed in a black button-down shirt that she'd tucked into faded blue jeans that covered the tops of her black boots. Reshan hadn't mentioned a dress code, so Gwen had opted for casual. It wasn't like this was going to turn out to be a cocktail party, right?

She stopped the elevator at the lobby and walked the rest of the way down the stairs. Maybe she could slip in unnoticed and just stay on the wall. Maybe she could leave after an hour. Maybe she-

"Ah, look who's here," Toni said as she descended the stairs behind Gwen, three bags of ice in her arms. "God, these are cold."

Gwen pushed the door open for her and followed Toni into a semi-loud room filled with people. _We have this many tenants?_ was her first thought.

They deposited their baggage onto a table already groaning under the weight of food and drink, and Gwen tried to slink over to an unoccupied section of wall. Tried.

She was halfway there when a hand attached to a green-clad arm grabbed her shoulder. The owner of said arm pulled herself into view, and Gwen blinked. It was Reshan, but a very differently attired Reshan. Instead of the usual torn, paint covered shirt and faded, baggy jeans, she was wearing a long-sleeved green button down shirt with three buttons open, and tight black jeans that hugged the curves of her legs.

"Um, hi."

"You came! I knew you would. Come over here and meet some people."

'Some people' turned out be what seemed like everyone in the room, hence, everyone in the building. Reshan dragged her all over the room, introducing her to _everyone_.

"This is Gwen. She dances," was the usual first half of the introduction, and the only variation on the latter part of the introduction was the person's name and what they did. Then it was off to the next person. "This is Mike, he sings." "Kira here plays guitar." "Caity illustrates children's books."

"Gwen, this is Eric. He's a flautist." She was introduced to a quiet-looking young man, a few years older than herself, perhaps, with shaggy long brown hair and a weary smile on his face.

"Amanda's a writer. She actually pretty quiet, but she makes damn good cookies." "Ariel draws those whatchamacallit-" "Manga," the weary Ariel replied, and Reshan said, "Right. _Manga,_"and then dragged the dancer off.

It went on for another half hour, and Gwen's spirits grew until she laughingly pushed herself out of a group chatting about the upcoming Ernst and Copel movie,and over to the drinks.

She poured herself a glass of cider and grabbed some of Amanda's famous cookies. Situating herself near some of the musicians and writers, she ate her snack and listened to some of the conversations.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Meh. Okay, I guess. We had to record like twenty times to get Finch's song right, though."

"Wow."

"Did Resh break up with Tanya?"

"Yeah, thank the Goddess. Four weeks ago. You know they don't last long, and no one here liked Tanya anyway."

"Mmm. She was quite the looker, though. Too bad they're both lez. Ah, well." said the male speaker, a game designer named Vance.

The question turned to other topics including a discussion on 'Tanya the Looker.' Gwen wasn't interested, though.

Resh had to be Reshan, so… Reshan was a lesbian? She found other girls attractive, and sometime slept with them, even carried on relationships with them?

Gwen shook her head. Why should it matter? Reshan was cool. Pushing the thought from her mind, she enjoyed her cookies and cider.

§

Reshan couldn't believe it. She had _finally_ gotten her ever-so-elusive, mysterious next-door-neighbor to come to a basement party and all she did was hang out by the wall? No fair! She could at least enjoy herself. Annoyed, Reshan shook her short, shaggy hair out of her eyes and stalked over to where the current occupant of apartment 5-B sat.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "Mingle, get to know everyone."

"I did."

"Well, mingle more."

"I did."

The semi-argument soon turned into friendly bantering, and a few hours later saw the two of them helping Toni to clean up the basement and pack everything up.

"Thanks."

"No prob."

"So, what dancing do you do?"

"Most everything. Hip-hop, break dancing, step, tango, ballet... You know, I once danced in a Brittany Spears music video."

"Really?"

"Yeah, remember the Pepsi commercial that was always playing in movie theatres?"

"No way!" Reshan said, impressed.

"You must get a lot of job offers, then," Toni said, smiling.

The happy expression on Gwen's face faded, and a look of slightly sour melancholy replaced it.

"Yeah, a whole lot."

An awkward silence descended over the trio until Reshan coughed. "I'd better get back up. There's an exhibition tomorrow and I don't want to be late."

"We're pretty much done here," Toni offered. "I'll finish up here and the two of you go on up."

"Thanks. Night, Ton."

"Thank you for inviting me, Toni."

"Thank _you_ for coming, _querida_." "No, thank _you_." "Please, you-"

"Come _on_, Gwen," Reshan broke in before it could go on all night.

They called the elevator, rode it up in silence, and exited.

Grinning, Reshan escorted Gwen to her door, bowed, and beat a hasty retreat to her own rooms.

As soon as she got into her quarters, her grin faded, however, and she slumped onto her couch.

"Why now?" she mumbled out loud to no one in particular.

"Why now and why _her_?" Reshan couldn't deny it. She found Gwen attractive; she always had, ever since she had first helped Gweneviere "I'm quiet, and I like the quiet. Would it be okay if when I knocked on the wall, you turned the music down?" LeBelle move in next door.

Gwen was funny, charming, and nice enough, and she hadn't mentioned a partner of either sex. The painter had never seen one, either. And- Reshan had never felt this _strongly_ about someone. Most of her other dalliances were just that- dalliances. Gwen- Gwen made her feel warm, with a nice cozy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and none of her other partners had made her feel like this.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Now what? This was going to make relations with Gwen even more difficult. The girl wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but being appealing to Reshan, not to mention being on her 'things to fix' list, was going to make the 'get this girl some friends' plan into a situation that could heat up rapidly.


	2. The Incident

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

Aaaand now, here's chapter two. (Did you really think I was gonna leave it at that, despite my penchant for not finishing stories?)

* * *

**Dance My Painting, I'll Paint Your Dancing, Chapter Two.**

Two days later saw Gwen and Reshan at the Broadway Café in downtown Manhattan.

"This is really nice," the dancer said. "Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem," Reshan replied. "I enjoy your company." _More than you know._

She lifted another forkful of fettuccini alfredo to her mouth. "How's the salad?"

"Good. The breadrolls here are the _best_."

Reshan smiled. "Aren't they?"

They ate their lunch in silence, then, until Gwen broke it.

"Reshan, um, could I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Could I see some of your paintings, sometime?"

Natural curiosity prompted Reshan's wisest and most worldwise reply.

"Why?"

Gwen blushed. "Well. I've heard that you're a really good painter, and since you actually _do_ live off your work, I figure you must be good. So I'd like to see your stuff."

Reshan grinned. "Well, if you get to see my stuff, then I get to see your stuff. I want to watch you dance." Gwen's face fell slightly. "I- can't show you," she mumbled."

Reshan's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I suck and I can't get a job because I can't dance," Gwen ground out.

"Who says?" Reshan inquired quietly.

"These!" Gwen pulled a bunch of papers out of her bag with a flourish.

Reshan took them and skimmed through them. They were all variations on the same theme: _not enough emotion_.

She handed them back to Gwen and raised an eyebrow. "Not enough emotion? Gwen, you're one of the most passionate people I know."

_Despite knowing you as a friend for only two days. _

"Apparently not when I dance. Dancing is my _life_, my _passion_, my _èlèment__ motuer_! It just doesn't come out in my dancing. It's- all bottled up inside, and it won't show itself when I dance, and that's where I need it most!"

"_Oh_." Reshan put all the compassion, understanding, and sympathy she possessed into that one word.

"Well, I had a friend once, and he was having the same exact problem. Well, not maybe exact; he was a singer, but he couldn't go anywhere because he had no emotion. I was having problems painting, so we collaborated. I painted his singing and he tried to sing my painting. He ended up getting so happy that he overextended himself and got dizzy and fell onto the painting, effectively ruining it, but that's not my point. It worked for him, and it might well work for you."

Francisco had finally gotten onto Broadway and was currently touring the country with Phantom of the Opera, playing Piangi. He was a good guy, and his last phone call had informed her that he had gotten an offer from the Les Misèrables touring group, possibly to play Marius, the second male lead.

"So do you want to try it?" she asked, breaking away from her thoughts, and half-praying that Gwen would accept.

"I'll try anything at this point," Gwen replied wearily.

"Okay! Do you want to try tonight? I'm free, and you can see my paintings."

Gwen perked up a little. "Sure."

They finished their food and called for the bill. As they walked out the door, Reshan was inwardly ecstatic. Finally she would have Gwen right where she wanted her- and maybe be able to probe a little about how Gwen might feel about a relationship with her.

She couldn't keep the grin off her face.

Reshan pulled the cover off the first of the paintings.

"Wow."

"Mmmyep."

"No, really, _wow_."

Reshan smiled. All Gwen could say was 'wow.' The painting in question wasn't even her best one, and all she could say was 'wow.' Cover after cover came off the paintings, and Gwen's eyes got bigger every time.

Then she unveiled the last painting, her best (and favorite) so far, and Gwen's jaw hit the floor.

Literally.

Gwen was so amazed that she half reached out to touch it, tripped, and fell flat on her face. Reshan burst out laughing and helped her to her feet, and Gwen just stood there, gazing at the painting.

It featured a beautifully carved, faded old ivory tower projecting out of a turbulent sea, and on the top was a girl, obviously ready to jump. Her arms were spread slightly and her eyes clearly showed conflict between whether to jump or not. Behind her was a dark shadow, out of whose back protruded large shadows in a suggestion of wings spread wide, perhaps to enfold her with the figure in their shadowy embrace or to push her off with a gust of wind. Reshan liked to imagine the former, but the latter was all too possible. The painting was done in mostly dark colors; dark greens and blues for the sea, blacks and grays for the contours of the tower and the shadow, and the sky that it blended so well with, and a black gown for the girl.

The only light colors were the tower itself, a faded ivory color, the girl's eyes, two expressive orbs of blue the color of the sky on a warm summer's day, and a far off ray of light piercing the heavy dark clouds overhead, a lone ray of hope or survival, if the girl could only endure long enough. The painting was rather large; about three feet by four, and she had been working on it for nearly a year on and off, and apparently it was worth the pain that the ridges in the sea, depressions in the tower, and texture of the overall had taken. Gwen was gape-mouthed and stuttering. "Reshan, this is- amazing- no words- can describe- it's beautiful, it's magnificent, it's-"

Reshan cut her off with a wave of her hand, laughing. "There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio. Thanks. Now, would you like to get started? I'd really like to see what you've got."

Gwen looked doubtful, but she nodded and headed over to her gym bag that had been set down next to the wall, and pulled out a tape player and several tapes.

Reshan moved her easel and paints over to a point on the edge of the living room, on the periphery of the kitchen.

The living room itself was one of the reasons why her apartment was one of the more desirable-and expensive-of the apartments available in Guardian House. The floor was a smooth wooden twenty-by-twenty foot expanse that was mostly open, save for the one couch and the T.V., both on rollers so that they could be moved easily if Reshan decided she needed space. Gwen probably could have used it for better effect, and it was Reshan's dream that Gwen would be soon; if only she could get up the courage to ask the other woman out on a tentative date.

Now Reshan pushed them over to the corner near the kitchenette, so that the couch was back against the wall and the T.V. next to it, giving Gwen the most possible space.

"Let me just warm up," Gwen said, and Reshan nodded and continued setting up her supplies.

Gwen stretched out on the floor and started working on her legs.

Reshan covertly watched the dancer and silently admired the sleek muscles in her body through the skintight leggings and conforming shirt. Reshan had never really liked the beefy, muscular types, nor geeky or 'preppie' partners. Gwen was neither. She was down to earth, shy, but still willing to speak her mind about what she felt was important. Intelligence, love, understanding, and compassion were what Reshan valued in a partner. Gwen was all of these things and more. Reshan felt nearly sick with longing; Gwen was everything she desired, and yet still so completely… untouchable. Reshan had been very... ah, _promiscuous_ over the last few years, but hadn't felt this burning passion for anyone except Gwen.

She hadn't even felt that way about Tanya, and Tanya had been her longest fling yet. But... Tanya was a whore. She had always wanted an open relationship, and she was intelligent, but she had never loved Reshan. That was what had bothered Reshan from the beginning, and the painter would have been willing to bet money that Tanya had been two-timing her, and merely staying for non-existent sex. That was why she had hared off. Well, more of a 'get-out'-'okay-I-will' thing, but she _had_ left.

A few minutes later, Gwen finished with a "Done," and sprang up with an energy she hadn't hinted at before. "What style?" she asked, to which Reshan replied, "whatever's best."

Gwen set the tape and posed in the center of the room in kind of a backward-crouch position; her legs were bent in front of her and her back was arched, and her head was back with her arms braced on either side. The tape started playing the song, 'Cry Me A River,' by Justin Timberlake, and Gwen leaped into action. Reshan vaguely recognized the style as hip-hop, and she chose a red and a blue, mixing them into a pale purple and dabbing at the edges of the canvas. Gwen's papers were right; she was a terrific dancer, but showed almost no emotion. It was like a violin with no vibrato; pretty, and alive, but not _living_; simply existing, like a dead lake. Pretty, for all it's sereneness, but no _life_.

After the song ended, Reshan called Gwen over to see what was done so far. The dancer studied the mostly white canvas and frowned. "This is-what I expected- and yet- I can try- no- oh!" she rushed over to her bag and pulled out a new tape, switching it for the one in the player and practically flying back to the center of the room.

"I've never used this tape," she stated, "so bear with me. I'll be improving as I go." The tape started, and a tune from Riverdance- the first song, 'Reel Around The Sun,' Reshan thought, and Gwen began. Her soft shoes didn't make a lot of sound on the wood floor, but the noise that she did make allowed Reshan to identify it as step.

She chose a dark green and started brushing at the near-empty canvas. The song segued unexpectedly, into a rap song, 'Lose Yourself,' and after a slight hesitation, Gwen changed her dance into breakdancing and Reshan selected a medium blue. The tape- and Gwen- changed into a dozen different songs and dance styles, and Reshan changed colors and techniques with them. The mix finally stopped on a clip from Phantom of the Opera, from the final scene and the words, "You alone can make my song take flight, it's over now, the Music of the Night!" that always made Reshan shiver with delight emanated from the speakers. Gwen was dripping with sweat- the tape had been- Reshan checked her watch- geez. Fourteen minutes straight of dancing.

The canvas was still quite barren, but now- Gwen's emotion was faintly imprinted on it in the form of a vague outline of a woman, with swirling ribbons of music threading their way around her and through the portrait.

Gwen walked over to where she could see the portrait and gasped. "That's-" she groped for words. "Amazing? A visual masterpiece? A perfect portrait of emotion itself?" Reshan cut in with an insolent grin. "Yes. I-"

Reshan interrupted. "Would like a Gatorade? You're sweating and your hands are shaking-"

Gwen looked down. "So they are."

"Go sit on the couch and I'll get you one. Go." Reshan pushed Gwen in the direction of the couch and went to grab the promised Gatorade from the fridge. She sat next to Gwen on the couch, and handed her the purple Gatorade, flexing her fingers as she did. The couch wasn't really a couch- more of a loveseat, so they were in close proximity.

The two artists simply sat for a while, just chilling and nursing their aches, until Reshan began to really _notice_ Gwen. The dancer was sweaty, and still trembling slightly, and her closeness was beginning to make Reshan uncomfortable. The heat from her overheated form started seeping into Reshan and before she knew what she was doing, her arm was around the surprised dancer's shoulders, and her other hand was lifting her chin up, her head tilted and- Reshan threw herself off the couch, panting. "You should go-" she gasped.

Gwen's eyes were full of questions, and her fingers were reaching up to touch her face where Reshan's fingers had been.

"Please- just go!" Reshan rasped out.

Slowly- _too_ slowly in Reshan's opinion, the danced gathered up her things and left, leaving Reshan alone with her thoughts- and her guilt.

_Oh- god.__ What _now?

She collapsed onto the now-empty couch and covered her face with her hands. A dry sob racked her frame and she peered at the ceiling through the gaps in her fingers.

_What did I almost _do?


	3. The Exhibition

Disclaimer: Duh. See chapter one.

* * *

**Dance My Painting, I'll Paint Your Dancing, Chapter Three.**

Gwen knocked lightly on the door. Reshan had called and said that she'd wanted to finish the painting, so here Gwen was, wondering if it was really the painting she wanted to finish. Reshan had tried. . . _something_ on Tuesday night, and had only stopped right before anything had really happened.

Personally, Gwen thought that Reshan had been about to kiss her, but then the painter had stopped, half thrown herself off the couch, and ordered Gwen to leave.

Gwen had obeyed, but only with a strange sense of regret.

Did she actually _like_ Reshan? She was nice and all, but she was a girl. A woman. Homosexuality hadn't really bothered Gwen before, but it hadn't ever really _involved_ her before.

Maybe she should wait and see what Reshan did before deciding anything.

Yes, she resolved. That's exactly what she would do.

The door opened, and a very different Reshan stepped out. She was unsmiling and somber and she was dressed in black. A black _gi_, to be precise, over a red t-shirt. Gwen was startled.

"Did someone die?" she blurted out.

Reshan's face brightened. "Nah, I just felt like wearing black and red today. More girly."

In Gwen's opinion, Reshan looked more like a boy now than she ever had before. Was Reshan trying to make a point?

Said woman motioned for her to come in and shut the door behind her.

Reshan settled herself backwards on a kitchen chair and Gwen took the couch.

"So…"

"So…"

"Do you, um, want me to finish the painting?" Reshan asked, clearly trying to avoid the subject of the previous night.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow night? I've got an exhibition tonight."

Gwen had an idea. "Can I come? I'd like to see how you work."

"O. . . kay," Reshan said uncertainly."Should I pick you up?"

"Yeah. Unless you want me to meet you- no? Okay, what time?"

"Exhibition's at seven. I'll come for you at six. . . or five, if you want to go out for dinner."

"Dinner," Gwen said firmly. "Formal dress?"

"Semi-formal. It's nothing big. Listen, it's three now, so you probably want to go home and get ready; shower and stuff, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks. See you at five."

"Yeah. . . five."

Gwen left, then, without seeing the nervous look on Reshan's face.

§

"Well, don't we look pretty!"

"Thanks."

Gwen was attired in a simple black skirt and a blue peasant blouse. Her usual gym bag had been replaced by a sleek black-and-blue purse, and her feet were clad in black tie-sandals. Black eyeliner and blue mascara lined her eyes, and her hair was straightened and in a simple bun.

"Really, you look great," Reshan insisted.

"You do, too."

Reshan usually tried to look as androgynous as possible, and tonight was no exception; she stuck to black pressed slacks and a white button-down shirt.

"Where do you want to go for dinner?" she asked Gwen.

"Well, I know there's a nice Chinese place near Broadway; we could go there. My dad used to eat there practically every day when he lived here. That was almost fifteen years straight, and I think they remember me. We can walk; it's close enough."

"Alright."

§

As it turned out, the cook remembered Gwen's father quite well, and gave them free margaritas on the house. An hour later, in good spirits, Reshan had paid the bill and they walked the three or four blocks to the exhibition, arriving at six-twenty-five precisely.

When the doors opened at seven-o-clock sharp, Gwen hung close to Reshan, following her and just making the appropriate sounds when someone commented on one of Reshan's pieces.

"Ah, Reshan," an older man wearing a business suit remarked. "Wonderful piece. Really brilliant."

The piece in question was a painting of a violin being played by two white, long fingered hands on a black background. "Thank you, Mr. D'Agostino. This is a newer one, oil on canvas. The inspiration was my neighbor, Gustavo. He's a violinist with the Broadway show Beauty and the Beast, you know." "Ah," the gentleman remarked wisely.

"Is this your new girlfriend?" he inquired. "Quite lovely."

He lifted Gwen's hand and kissed the back, then moved on without waiting for a reply. Gwen was frozen. Reshan couldn't _imagine_ what was going on inside Gwen's head. Well, actually she _could_, but none of it was hopeful to Reshan.

She knew her face had to be bright red as she turned to face Gwen.

"That was- amusing," she remarked.

Gwen was beet red. "Did he just say- what I think he said?"

"No," Reshan deadpanned. "He's thought I was a guy all these years and he agrees with my choices in chicks."

"Ha ha- wait, _what_?"

Reshan just smiled.

§

The following few days were annoyingly awkward. Gwen would come over to work with Reshan, who kept herself as far as humanly possible away from Gwen, so they could avoid a repeat of that first night.

However fate, (A/N: or the authoress) had other plans.

"Um, Reshan?"

"Yes?"

"Er, can you give me your honest opinion on something?"

"Ask away; I fear thee not."

_Oh, you will_, Gwen mentally told her, and steeled herself.

"Do you…. Do you find me attractive?" she blurted.

Reshan paled. "Uh…. Wow….. I wasn't really expecting that. Ummm…."

"Do you?" Gwen asked desperately, and blushed. She couldn't believe she was asking this.

"Er-" Reshan blushed hotly, then looked away. "Yes, she admitted. "I think you're very attractive." _Don't forget hot,_ her mind added. _Shut up!_ "Why do you ask?"

"I- don't know. I just thought-" she sighed. "I don't know. I just wanted to know, I guess. I'm sorry."

"Ah- don't be. It was an awkward question, but don't worry about it. I won't hit on you or anything." Reshan was still clearly uncomfortable, so Gwen turned the subject to other topics.

They moved on to discussing Gwen's dancing, but not before Gwen caught another one of those weird looks in Reshan's eyes.

"We're almost done with the painting. How do you feel?"

"Great. I think my dancing's really improved."

"When's your next audition?"

"Saturday. God, I hope this worked. I'm so tense that if you pluck me I vibrate… oh that sounded wrong…"

Reshan raised an eyebrow and snorted. "No duh. Are you really that tense, though?"

"Even more. My back is killing me."

"Well, I could do something about that. My sister is a massage therapist, and she taught me a couple of things." _Including the popular positions of karma sutra.__ Yummy._

_**Shut** it! _

"O-kay. Right now?"

"If you want, yeah. You'll feel a lot better, I promise." _Why_ was she doing this? It was going to test the very boundaries of her self-control.. Could she deal?

Gwen had already lain down on the couch, so Reshan moved off her chair and over to where Gwen lay.

"Where does it hurt the most?" Reshan prodded Gwen's back and they both hissed, though for different reasons.

She was surprised Gwen could even walk, let alone dance. Her back was so _tight_!

The dancer should have known to be more careful; she could have torn something if she had actually been in a show, and if your back goes, so does all of your income.

Gently, she started to rub Gwen's back, massaging the tense muscles and working the kinks out. Ever so slowly, Gwen began to relax under her hands. Reshan dropped to her knees beside the couch. This could take a while. Gwen's eyes were closed, and she looked so innocent and trusting. A smile crawled across Gwen's face and Reshan wanted to cry; if only Gwen would smile at _her_ like that.

Her hands moved up to Gwen's shoulders and Gwen tensed.

"It really hurts there," she murmured.

Reshan began to use the pressure points to help relieve tension. (Other pressure points also made for interesting pillow-talk.)

Gwen groaned with the release of tension and Reshan's hands on her shoulders tightened; the feel of her hands on Gwen's body was testing the barriers of her control- and increasing the pressure exponentially.

Reshan leaned down to tell Gwen that she needed to go- _before _Reshan lost control- Gwen turned her head to say something herself- and their lips met.


	4. The Apartment

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, you know the drill. See chapter one.

Sadly, this is the last chapter. Oh, well. Please excuse any spelling mistakes; I'm using my sister's computer and it doesn't have Microsoft Word or anything with a spell check.

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Reviewers: 

Marah Keelar: I'm glad you like it. Thanks.

DemonDancing: Love the name. Yay, and thanks for reviewing.

Anita H. Gratze, Gratze, it was nothing. Really. Two weeks, just about. XD

**Shameless plug:** New story coming out. Keep your eyes on the Finding Nemo fics for a slash fluff fic featuring Gill and Nemo in the next two days. If it's not up by then, don't expect anything for at least two weeks. I'll be in Europe and then recovering from jetlag. . . . Later, and enjoy.

**Dance My Painting, I'll Paint Your Dancing, Chapter Four.**

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Gwen was just starting to relax from Reshan's talented hands, and turned her head to thank her when she felt warm breath on her cheek and the unfamiliar pressure of soft lips against her own. All too suddenly, Reshan pulled away from the impromptu kiss. 

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I'm sorry- you should leave- please- leave before I do anything else!" Her hands flew off Gwen's back and the dancer immediately missed the contact.

"Reshan, I-"

"Please, go. I don't know how much longer I can control this- _desire _I have for you!"

"Reshan, I don't _want_ you to- control it. I liked it." Gingerly, Gwen touched her lips and smiled gently at Reshan, and as she spoke, knew the words to be true.

"I liked it. I wouldn't mind if you did it again. I-" she blushed. "I think I like you, Reshan. No- I know I like you. When I imagine kissing you, I get little butterflies in my stomach." The words were flowing out, and Gwen couldn't stop even if she'd wanted to. "I've never done anything with another girl before, but I'm willing to try, if you are."

The words hung, suspended in the air by the tension between the two. Silence.

"Uh- wow," Reshan said, clearly startled. "I uh- I guess I didn't realize that you felt that way. About me, I mean. You're sure this doesn't bother you?"

Gwen nodded, and Reshan blew out the breath she'd been holding. "Well, I'm glad. I would have had to leave if you hadn't," she said. "You're young, you're intelligent, you're beautiful, you're everything I could ever ask for. How could I stay here and _not_ want you?"

Gwen closed her eyes and tried to imagine a life without Reshan. She didn't even realize that Reshan had gotten up and had settled beside her on the loveseat that now seemed too large for the both of them, until she felt Reshan's arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, you okay? We don't have to do anything you don't want to," Reshan said quietly.

"No, I'm just trying to think of where we go from here." She gingerly laid her head on Reshan's shoulder, who instinctively held her closer. The tension and pain in her back was completely gone, and she relaxed.

The tension must have been a side effect of her attraction to Reshan, she mused.

Her attraction to Reshan suddenly took a leap and she lifted her head from said woman's shoulder. Reshan was looking down at her with a fire smoldering in her ice-blue eyes, and the fire awakened a long-dormant twin in Gwen. The painter's hand came up to cup the side of her face and she sighed. Her thumb stroked Gwen's cheekbone and the dancer shivered.

Gently, and ever so slowly, Reshan leaned in. Gwen's eye's fluttered shut, and she felt the other artist hesitate, then Reshan's lips captured her for a second time that night- this time willingly and purposefully. Reshan's lips moved against her own and she responded in kind. One of Reshan's arms came up to pull Gwen flush against her body. Her thumb on Gwen's cheek moved to probe the corner of her mouth, and Reshan's tongue came out to run along Gwen's lips, gaining entrance.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air.

"Mmm," Reshan said raggedly. "You taste good." Gwen blushed. Better embarrassing comments than complaints of bad breath, after all.

"You're a good kisser," she ventured shyly. Reshan grinned and kissed her again. This time Gwen parted her lips almost immediately, and Reshan slipped her tongue in, resulting in faster and better tongue-play.

They broke apart again, gasping from pleasure this time, and Reshan decided to stop before it went much further; Gwen didn't need everything at once. For tonight, establishing a relationship and taking a first step was enough. Anything more could wait. The rest of the night, the two just traded kisses and light caresses before eventually finding their way to Reshan's bed and falling asleep together, still fully clothed except for their shoes.

In the uncertain light of morning, amid the bustle from the city below, Reshan awoke with a sleeping Gwen in her arms. Initially she forgot what had happened and almost panicked, but then she remembered, and looked at the blond-haired beauty in her arms. Reshan sighed and started to turn to stare out the window, when an irrational fear found her, and froze her. What- what if Gwen hadn't meant what she said? Had Reshan unconsciously pressured her into this? What if Gwen had just been playing a cruel trick on her?

She had to know.

Hesitantly, she grasped Gwen's shoulder and gently shook her.

"Hey. _Hey_! Gwen!"

"Mmphg... what?"

"Did- you- really _mean_ what you said last night? I mean- you _were_ serious, right?"

"Huh? Uh- yeah. Resh, I was completely serious." Gwen shook her head. "You complete me. You're the Yin to my Yang, the moon to my sun. I like you, I really do."

She leaned up and kissed Reshan lightly on the lips. "What time is it?"

Reshan looked at the clock next to the bed. "Six twenty." Now she felt really guilty about waking Gwen up. This had never happened with any of her other partners. She had never feared about anyone else... everyone recent had been more a friendly relationship.

This felt... different.

It felt right.

FIN

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Well, that's it, folks. It's over. Over. That doesn't mean you can stop reviewing. Assuredly not. Please review. 

Thank you to all of the reviewers, and also to Amber Stag for suffering through the written portion, telling me it was sick and twisted, and that you like yaoi better.


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